


Stepping Out

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-25
Updated: 2006-02-25
Packaged: 2018-08-15 16:41:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8064010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Reed has a terrible time on shore leave. (07/01/2002)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

"Come on. You *know* you'll have a good time."

"I don't think so," Malcolm Reed replied, staring into his cup. The tea inside was too hot to sip and he willed it to cool. "I have a lot to do."

"Are you *kidding* me?" Trip Tucker replied, slightly incredulous. "This is our first shore leave in the journey and you have *things to do*? Where's your spirit of adventure? Where is that old human curiosity?"

Malcolm glanced up, noting the array of faces staring at him and the discomfort he felt rushed through him like a wave. There was getting to be no wiggle room and he found himself agreeing against his better judgment. 

"Great!" Trip said, slapping him on the arm. "We'll be leaving at 1600. Be in the hangar deck."

He rose and walked toward the door, heading for Engineering. The conversation around him broke into the usual and Malcolm sat listening with half an ear even as he rued caving in. By the time he had finished his tea it was time to return to the Bridge. He gathered his things and walked to the recycler, dumping his trash.

Turning, he walked out the door, heading for the lift at the end of the corridor. Entering, he called his deck and rode in silence, stepping out onto the Bridge. Walking to his station, he relieved his stand- in and set about the business of Tactical Operations once again. Moving with little thought, he considered the evening to come.

Trip Tucker was a good man but he also was unaware of Reed's orientation. He was being friendly and Reed was appreciative of it but it had complicated his life. The evening was going to be a long ordeal.

***

1400 ...

"Come."

The door slid open and Malcolm stepped in, smiling as he saw Jonathan. The older man sat back in his chair and smiled.

"Hi."

"Hello."

"You're a bit early."

Malcolm sighed, his smile fading. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"You can't make it?" Jonathan asked tentatively.

Reed nodded, sighing. "Commander Tucker brow beat me into going on shore leave with him."

"Ah," Jonathan said nodding. "He can be persuasive."

Malcolm nodded. "I'd rather stay here with you."

"You need to get out," Jonathan said. "We all do. It's probably a good thing."

Malcolm crossed his arms and frowned. "Pub crawling with a bunch of het boys is a good thing?"

Jonathan grinned. "Maybe. Maybe not. Looks like you're committed."

"I had no choice."

Jonathan nodded and rose, walking to Malcolm. He pulled him into his arms and hugged him. "I guess we'll have to put off our evening then," he said quietly.

Malcolm nodded and sighed. "Yeah."

***

1625, planet-side ...

They walked into the bar, finding a table near the edge of a stage. Dancing around them and on the stage were different kinds of aliens, male, female and indeterminate. This planet was a crossroads of sorts, a sort of economic clearinghouse for any number of unusual and before now unknown species and civilizations.

They watched as people came and went, sipping on the local equivalent of beer. Tucker was in his element, enjoying the show, as was the others in the group. Malcolm sat quietly, mildly uncomfortable.

A woman moved past them, pausing beside a large humanoid male. They whispered together and then he rose, walking with her to the dance floor. Malcolm watched as they danced a moment and then they turned and walked toward the bar. A corridor continued past it and they disappeared down it, drawing a knowing smile from Commander Tucker.

"I don't suppose they're going to play pinochle, do you?" he asked, grinning at Travis Mayweather. 

The young man smiled. "No. I guess it's something a little more hands on."

They laughed and Tucker watched as another woman came past, catching her eye with his smile. She stopped, her dark eyes and pale skin alluring in the light. 

"Hello," he said easily. "Hello," she said smiling. "You just get in?"

"We did," Tucker replied. "We're from the star ship Enterprise."

"Ah, sounds exciting," she replied equally smoothly. She leaned down and sat on the arm of his chair, draping her arm around his shoulders. "And you are?"

"Tucker, Trip Tucker. These are my shipmates," he replied and introduced them all. 

She smiled and nodded to each. "Would you care to dance, Mr. Tucker?"

Trip smiled and shrugged. "Actually, I think you'd rather dance with Malcolm."

All eyes turned to Malcolm, who sat with a stricken look on his face. He swallowed hard and sat up straighter.

"That's ... I just ... that's fine," Malcolm stuttered as the woman rose and stopped next to his chair. She smiled and took hold of his hand, tugging him to stand up. He pulled it free and sat, licking dry lips. "I don't dance."

"Come on, Malcolm," Trip said, leaning forward on his elbows. "Go ahead. *Dance*."

The others nodded, grinning widely and he found himself pulled to his feet and tugged toward the dance floor. Stopping in the middle of the crowd, he awkwardly held the woman by the waist as she slipped her arms around his shoulders. Smiling at him, she began to move.

"You're very shy."

"I, um, I don't dance very well," Malcolm stammered.

"You're doing just fine," she said, smiling again. "I think you just need a little confidence."

"Really, I don't--"

"Let's go some place else," she purred, tugging on his hand. 

He stood planted on the floor, glancing at the table full of crewmates who sat watching, grinning widely. Trip saluted him with a glass and Malcolm felt himself moving along, pulled by the woman. They wove through the crowd, entering a long corridor lined with doors. Opening one, she steered Malcolm inside. Closing the door behind her, she turned and faced him.

"You seem very tense. Would you like a drink?" she asked.

"No," Malcolm said. "Actually, I don't think I belong here."

She stared at him for a moment, considering his tense demeanor. "You don't care for women."

Malcolm swallowed. "I like women, but not that way. I mean, I don't ..."

"You don't have intimacy with women."

"No," Malcolm replied, sighing deeply.

She smiled. "We have males here who can take my place."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Malcolm said formally. 

She stared at him and then moved to sit on the bed. "What do we do then? Talk?"

Malcolm shrugged and moved to a chair, sitting. "That would be fine."

For a moment it was silent and then she smiled. "You are not much given to conversation."

"I don't know what to say," Malcolm replied. 

"Tell me about your life," she asked.

Malcolm thought a moment and nodded. "I'm from Earth, a long way from here. My country is an island. I've always wanted to be in space. I always wanted to see new places and new people."

"That's admirable," she said. "I myself am from here."

Malcolm nodded. "Do you have a family?"

She nodded. "I have a husband and three children."

"A husband?" Malcolm asked with surprise.

She smiled. "Among my people, this is my profession. There is nothing more to it than that."

"Among my people it isn't," Malcolm said. "I don't mean that badly," he said hastily.

She laughed, a musical sound. "No offense taken. Differences are the spice of life, don't you think?"

Malcolm smiled. "I think so."

"Your people, do they welcome you?" she asked.

"Welcome me?"

"Your choice. Is it welcome?" she asked.

Malcolm thought a moment. "Oh, the ... um, my choice." He paused. "More so than before. I'm in the military. That's a different culture than other careers. Sometimes it isn't welcomed."

"Mores the pity," she replied. "Your friends ... they don't know about you, do they?"

He shook his head. "I don't make it known."

"That must be very lonely for you," she said, her voice filled with sympathy.

He considered his response. "It would be but there's someone on the ship that I'm with, someone important to me. It makes all the difference."

"But they don't know," she persisted.

He shook his head. "No. They don't."

"Both of you ... you want it that way?"

"No. It's the way it has to be," Malcolm said. "It's not the first choice for either of us. It's the only choice."

She nodded. "Then they will think that you and I ... that will help you with your camouflage?"

He considered her words and nodded. "I guess it will."

"Then we won't let them think otherwise," she said, rising. Holding out her hand, she pulled him to his feet. Turning, they walked out the door to the raucous room beyond. Walking to Malcolm's table, she turned and kissed him on the cheek. Smiling at the men sitting around the table, she turned and walked away.

Malcolm sat as they hooted and cheered, clapping their hands. He blushed furiously, internally mortified at the whole moment. Sitting, he gazed into his beer, avoiding everyone's eyes. Trip grasped his arm, squeezing.

"Malcolm, you have anything you want to tell us?"

Malcolm looked at him, blinking his eyes in embarrassment. He shook his head and raised his glass to his lips. Sipping the semi-sweet liquid, he wished himself anywhere but here. The group sat a while longer and then they got up, moving together to the street beyond. For the next four hours they would go from pub to bar, drinking and dancing, carousing until they were recalled, their shore leave over for now.

***

2031, Enterprise ...

The chime woke him from his sleep and he sat up in bed, clicking on a small light at the head of his bed.

"Come."

The door opened and Malcolm stepped inside, swaying slightly in the dim light. Jonathan rose and took his arm, steering him to the bed and sitting him down. He looked at Malcolm's bleary eyes and shook his head.

"I better get you something or you won't be any good tomorrow."

"I don't think I'm any good right now," Malcolm slurred, hanging his head.

Jonathan walked into the head and came out with a small glass and a tablet. He put it in Malcolm's mouth and held the glass, making him drain it completely. After a second or two relief flooded Malcolm, lifting the fog in his mind. He sighed and looked at Jonathan as he sat down beside him. 

"Thanks. I may live."

"So basically it was a successful evening," Jonathan asked with a grin.

"Actually, no. It was hell." Malcolm rubbed his face. "I never thought I would find your door."

"You did." Jonathan returned to the head and returned with a cool cloth. He handed it to Malcolm and watched as he rubbed his face. His color looked better. "Feel better."

"Yes," he said, leaning against Jonathan's shoulder. "Much."

"So, did you learn anything new tonight?" Jonathan asked, curiously. 

"Yes," Malcolm said, sitting up straighter. "I learned that alien beer can kill you."

Jonathan chuckled, shaking his head. "It can."

"I missed you. I wish you and I could have gone someplace together." Malcolm sighed. "I'm sorry. I know better."

Jonathan squeezed Malcolm's shoulders. "Maybe we can get away for a while before we pull out of here."

"I'd like that. I'd like to go some place where we don't have to risk being seen."

Jonathan considered the longing in Malcolm's voice. "You sound like you had something happen tonight."

Malcolm considered the blur of events of the evening and shrugged. "I just want to be with you where I don't have to worry about anyone seeing us."

Jonathan nodded his head. "How do you feel?"

"Better," Malcolm sighed, rubbing his eyes. He moved and knelt between Jonathan's legs, slipping his arms around Jonathan's waist, hugging him tightly. 

Jonathan rubbed his back, stroking his dark hair gently back from Malcolm's bleary eyes. 

Malcolm sat back, staring at Jonathan and then the older man leaned down, kissing him intensely. Malcolm kissed him back, the tension of the evening lessening. He leaned forward, his hands sliding along Jonathan's thighs. Sighing, he pushed Jonathan backward gently. 

Jonathan leaned back, raising his hips as Malcolm pulled down his shorts. Closing his eyes, relaxing his body, he felt the warmth of Malcolm's mouth closing around him. He groaned softly, allowing the intimacy to overtake his conscious mind. The sensations coalesced and he felt himself come apart, warmth generated in his groin moving along his spine and out the tips of his fingers and toes. His mind exploded, his body jerking and then he was stilled, panting like a dog on a hot day. He sat up, pulling Malcolm in for a kiss. 

"Thank you," he whispered, kissing Malcolm again.

Malcolm nodded and lay his head on Jonathan's lap, closing his eyes in contentment. Nothing else mattered at this moment than the two of them. He felt Jon's hands on his back, stroking his hair and soothing him. He felt a soft kiss on his neck and he sighed. He felt peaceful for the first time that entire evening.

***

The next day, in the lift ...

"You look hung over."

Malcolm nodded to Trip Tucker as he stepped onto the lift. "I'm fine, actually. *You* look like hell."

"I feel like hell. I don't know what they make their beer out of but I don't think I'll do that again. At least not for a while," Tucker admitted. He grinned. "Did you have a good time?"

Malcolm looked at Trip, at his open friendly face and grinned. "I had a great time. Thanks."

"We'll do it again then," Tucker replied, stepping out as the lift door opened.

Malcolm followed, passing him as he took his station. Leaning down, he whispered. "Over my dead body."

Tucker snorted and grinned, glancing at his captain. "We look good to go, Captain."

Archer watched as Malcolm walked to his station and sat, nodding his agreement. Images of the night before came to mind and he smiled back. Turning, he looked at the screen.

"Well, gentlemen, take us out," he said. 

The ship edged out of orbit and moved into open space, jumping to warp in seconds. Behind them, in a house on the edge of town, a woman was getting home after a long night of work. Her children greeted her as did her husband and she smiled. Things were as they should be, she thought as she closed the door of her house behind her.


End file.
